


Waiting On Your Supernova

by lone_lilly



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-25
Updated: 2008-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly





	Waiting On Your Supernova

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[ga: derek/meredith](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+derek/meredith), [grey's anatomy](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/grey%27s+anatomy)  
  
  
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Waiting On Your Supernova

**Title: ** Waiting On Your Supernova  
**Fandom:** Grey's Anatomy  
**Characters:** Meredith/Derek  
**Rating:** adult  
**Spoilers:** Through the end of 4x17-- "Freedom".

She had moved since he'd left her.

Not that he didn't expect her to, just the opposite. He had assumed she'd migrate into the trailer to wait for him, that he'd find her on the couch-- or maybe the bed, if he really dared to hope-- still muttering to herself that she'd made a mistake.

Or maybe... he wouldn't find her at all.

He never imagined he would find her sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the middle of a new configuration of candles, staring serenely out at the view of Seattle below them.

Waiting. For him.

She was full of surprises tonight.

"What room is this?" he asked, stepping into the geometric shape of glittering candle light nearly the size of their earlier "house".

"Bedroom," she said as he settled behind her on the blanket. He stretched his legs out and she leaned sideways against his chest with a sigh.

"You asked me where our bedroom is. It's on the second floor."

"It's big," he nodded.

His arm snaked around her waist and he trailed his fingertips over her arm, breathing in deeply as her warm, familiar scent mingled with the vanilla musk of the candles and the damp earth around them. It clung to the back of his throat and relaxed him.

"Too big?"

"Depends on the size of our bed."

She laughed softly. "Not big enough then."

"Maybe not," he agreed and she didn't say anything else so he didn't either, letting them fall into a silence that was both comfortable and full of unsaid things at the same time.

She stirred eventually in his arms, pulling back enough to look at him, her eyes dancing dark and serious in the glow of the soft light around them.

He had always been drawn to her eyes, the way the color seemed to change with her mood, from a light almost grey-green when she was sad to a darker hazel when she was pissed. The way they glittered with mischief when she smiled at him and fought to stay open when she was aroused.

Now, he recognized trepidation there and an underlying emotion he couldn't quite name. Compassion? Guilt?

He combed a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek in a gesture that was as much to erase that look in her eyes as it was to erase similar feelings inside him. And because it had been so long since he'd been allowed to hold her.

"How did it go?"

Rose. She was giving him that look because of Rose. Because she felt bad for the woman he'd used against her. Felt bad for him because he'd made this mess.

"It went..." he paused searching for the right word to describe a break-up that went entirely too smooth, too mechanical. It was easy to break up with someone with whom you never really imagined spending the rest of your life.

"It went okay. She knew... she said she knew it was coming."

Off Meredith's look, he added sardonically, "She's not you. She could never be you."

Meredith's gaze slide to the side of him and he cupped her face, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"You were... I wasn't sure you were going to come back."

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here when I did," he countered.

She smiled ruefully.

"I almost left," she admitted. "Twice."

He could feel his heart constrict painfully in his chest and he inhaled sharply, not quite sure he wanted an answer but feeling like he had to ask anyway.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because _I'm_ supposed to be the love of your life," she said petulantly, her eyes flashing defiantly as she pushed hard on his chest. He tightened his arms around her in case she tried to bolt but she made no effort to move away.

"_Me._ Not Rose. Not Addison. Not some other girl in a bar. Me. You said you wanted to build a life with me. You said you wanted to marry me and have kids with me and die in my arms when you are a hundred and ten years old. Which you're only allowed to do if I get to die then too because otherwise that's just sad and unfair. But the point is, you've promised me a lot of things and you haven't kept any of those promises. Yet. But I'm holding you to them because I want things. "

"You want things," he repeated quietly, uncertain how the words he'd been so desperate to hear for almost a year could still cut him sharp like a knife.

"I want things. My life sucks. It's always sucked. I'm never good enough and everybody leaves me. But... I want things. With you. I want things with _you_. And I think I deserve those things. So... as long as you show up, then I have to too."

He swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat and tried to smile at her.

"Okay."

"Okay," she nodded and she did smile, wide and forgiving and full of hope.

It was impossible not to kiss her then, his fingers tangling through the hair resting against her neck as he slid his mouth over hers. She opened to him immediately, her own hands locking behind his neck as she pressed closer against him. It started out soft, warm, full of promise but turned quickly into something else. Something that was desperate and hungry. Something they had been denying each other way too long.

He pulled her down and she went willingly, the two of them rolling on the blanket until he was on top of her and then again so that she was straddling his hips. He was hard already underneath her and she ground against him until he tore his mouth from hers with a hiss.

"What about the champagne?" she teased as he clawed at the hem of her sweater. He liked the sweater, it was a good sweater, but it was even better tossed to the side, forgotten and out of his way. They shifted again, their legs tangled and the bottle of champagne rolled out of reach.

She giggled.

"It was supposed to be our victory dance."

"This _is_ our victory dance."

He leaned forward and she met him halfway, letting him kiss a searing path down her throat and over her cleavage, leaving her panting as he teased her through the black lace covering her chest. She was the one to tear at his clothes next, groaning impatiently until he helped her remove his shirt and she dragged her fingernails down across his chest.

He shivered and she laughed, her leg curling invitingly over his own as her fingers brushed over his erection.

After that it was a race to see who could undress the other the fastest and their mouths met again and again as their clothes piled up on the corners of the blanket.

"Forty-eight hours of this," she reminded him as he spread her legs apart with his hand, petting her. Teasing her.

"You... promised. Before. I want that to--"

He changed the pressure of his fingers, pulling roughly against the front wall of her sex as they slid out, teased her entrance, slid back in. Stretched.

"Ooh," she breathed, interrupting herself as her legs flexed restlessly and she dug her heels deep into the blanket, pushing herself harder against his palm.

"There it is," he murmured smugly.

She laughed weakly and trembled in his embrace, her head falling instinctively to the crook of his neck when he did it again.

He had learned this trick by accident one night not long after they'd first gotten together. She'd had too much alcohol to come easily and he'd spent an hour working her body, until she finally came so hard she had to push his hand away so the orgasm would stop wracking her body.

He had been afraid he had hurt her, but she'd merely grinned-- later, when she'd finally caught her breath-- and told him, no, it hadn't hurt. She'd simply been scared for a moment the intensity of it would kill her and Cristina would never let her live it down if she became the girl who died during mind-blowing sex.

He had made it his mission in life after that to give her mind-blowing whenever he got the chance.

And now seemed as good a time as any, he thought, finding her mouth as his fingers twisted and curled inside her. She was more prepared this time for the tidal wave threatening to overtake her, but every time he sensed she was close to the edge, he backed off long enough for her to lose it, only to build her back up again when she'd cry his name out in frustration.

When she came, when he finally let her come, it was every bit as intense as that first time, except instead of pushing his hand away, her sleek thighs clamped tight around him, keeping him in place.

As if he intended to let her go now that she was bucking and gasping underneath him.

"Crap," she panted against his neck and his laughter caught him by surprise.

"I love you too," he grinned, kissing the wet hair stuck to her forehead.

She didn't say anything in response and he felt that familiar panic grip him inside, wondering if maybe he had done something wrong, pushed her too fast again. If maybe she wasn't as whole and healed as advertised.

She pressed her warm hands against his chest and pushed him onto his back, rolled with him. She stared down at him with an unreadable expression and he held his breath without realizing it. Waiting.

For her.

"I love you," she said quietly and smiled. "I've loved you... forever."

"In a big way that makes you hate me, love me?"

"Pretty much," she nodded and they both laughed this time, all of the guilt and fear they'd carried with them since they met starting to melt away.

"We changed the face of medicine today," he said softly, pushing her hair over her shoulder. His hand cupped her neck and brought her close enough to kiss.

"We're superstars."

"Who cares?" she shrugged, shifted. Caught his mouth with her own and slid her body down over his.

He was pretty sure he could make a fair argument that plenty of people cared but then she rocked her hips against his and he decided he wasn't one of them.

At least not tonight.


End file.
